“Cute Cat” video giggles, the best sound to come from my 11-year-old all year.
Author: cmglife
Average Day
Pretty average day today.
My new “Four Day Diet” book arrived in the mail. I started to read it, then skimmed through the fluff and got right down to the diet menus. I was typing out a shopping list, but couldn’t read the computer with my reading glasses on and couldn’t read the book without the readers! Tried to wear them halfway down my nose, but then I couldn’t breath. Taking them on and off again was pulling my hair. It took me at least half an hour longer to do this task than it should have (similar to telling this story).
Allison is sick today so I kept her company by watching “Pretty Little Liars” with her. Not that watching it wasn’t bad enough, she kept pausing the show every few minutes to explain the characters and plot to me.
Went to the grocery store and put three yogurts into a strange man’s basket even though he was saying, “Excuse, me. Excuse, me!”
I finally looked up and saw it was not my husband after all, just a doppelganger (bet you don’t know the last time you’ve used that term).
Got home, unloaded the car and dropped a jar of Ragu in the driveway.
Yeah, that’s about it.
Lovely Children
My son, unfortunately, falls into the category of being “unintuitive”. He is sensitive, but things have to be pointed out to him. There is nothing wrong with it as long as the female in his life doesn’t mind either.
When my friend died last week it hit me pretty hard. After visiting her and her family that day I came home and holed up in my room with some wine and my phone. I was feeling a little sorry for myself because Emily and my sister Ellen weren’t there. They are always there for me, but they weren’t physically there and I really could have used them. I told Emily on the phone that I really needed a hug.
I didn’t realize until I heard a text buzz that Tristan was charging his phone in my room. I instinctively looked over and read that it was from Emily. She wrote “go in and give mom a hug, she really needs one”.
Just then, Tristan came in and got his phone. I wondered how long it would take him to come back after reading his texts.
Ten minutes went by when Tristan knocked. He came in and sat in bed with me. He asked me to tell him what happened that day. I told him everything. He held my hand and then gave me a hug.
I hope I’ve always given them what they needed the way they just gave me what I needed.
Dancing Queen
I used to be a great dancer on the floors of 3.2 clubs back in the 80’s. Oh, yeah, I had the moves. I was all decked out in the slouch boots, mini dress with a hip belt. Looking like a Madonna knock off. I had the mile high bangs and bangles. Good times.
I don’t know what I would now days if a good song came on and I felt like dancing. I’m not even talking about in front of someone; I mean alone. Just me, the house and my headphones. The best I can do is walk across the house to the “beat” while I’m cleaning. Pathetic.
What if I wanted to go to a concert? What would I do? Stand there and just clap? Are you going to a concert you ask? Well, no, but if I was…. I love to worry about things that aren’t happening. I do have to be prepared for every situation you see.
So if I did have tickets to a concert to… I don’t know, to someone like…oooh I don’t know…Adam Lambert? Do I go on YouTube and look for a how to dance video? Yes, I do. The only problem is they are all for young women. While I do feel young at heart I don’t think the rest of the world sees me quite in the same light.
I need to figure out how to move in a mature but not “mature” manner . God, that last sentence made me sound old.
I’ve got it! Can I just do the old sway with a lighter move? Do you think that will that pass as dancing?
Helicopter Parent
A few months back I had written “A Little Taste of Crazy” where the campus monitor and I were searching the grassy knoll behind the school for Allison’s phone.
If I wasn’t then I am now officially a “helicopter parent”.
This time Allison lost her violin. We went down to the orchestra room to look for it. We checked among all of the other violins. Allison saw it, but I said it wasn’t the hers because it didn’t have the correct tags.
The violin was rented and would cost me $340 to replace, so I was highly motivated to find it. I started out asking people as they passed by my desk and in the hallways. That then escalated to sending out a school wide email. This went on for two days.
Finally I called the rental place and asked for the serial numbers thinking another student may have taken the wrong violin. I went down to the cupboard again in the orchestra room. This is the part you’re going to love…it was there all the time!!! I felt terrible and apologized profusely to Allison.
I had to slink around the school avoiding the inevitable question, “Have you found Allison’s violin yet?” I would try to wiggle out of the question as best as I could with anemic answers such as, “Yes, thanks.” and if they asked where, I would tell most of the truth saying, “in the music room’s cupboard.”
Then I realized what I had been doing. The “absence” of detail on my part was letting them assume it was Allison’s fault!
I’m going to hell.
P.S. In good conscience I did start to elaborate as much as necessary saying something like, “It was there all along, I didn’t see it. I don’t want to talk about it”.
P.S.S. Still going to hell.
Tears
This is a follow up to my post “A Love Letter?”
My friend died two days ago. I had been sending a funny card each week to cheer her up. A poignant thought occurred to me; I still have a pile of cards left.
She went too soon in every sense of the word.
I miss her very much.
So Cool
I felt so cool the way I handled my in-laws recently.
They seem to think I am not a great housekeeper. They would be right, but why do they care?
The last straw were the little hints and back handed comments about my messy car. They were making my blood boil, but I was too nice or scared to say anything. I know it is incomprehensible to some people that I could keep my mouth shut, but unfortunately it’s been figuratively beaten out of me.
I hate to clean. I find cleaning pretty close to the feeling of suffocation. As with a lot of things in life it must be done, so I do it. I put my headphones on and rock out when cleaning the toilet or loading the dishwasher. The other problem with my housekeeping skills is my ADHD or at least that is what I’m going with. I just don’t see the dirt. I mean some of it is noticeably obvious, but on my way there to clean it there is almost always something more interesting that catches my attention.
My passive aggressive stand to my in-laws was to wash my car the day after they left!
I did and then it snowed, not cool.
Puzzle From Hell
Oh, how we persevered, puzzle from hell!
As I was picking it out at Barnes and Noble, Emily said, “No, Mom, it’s too complicated and too many pieces.”
No, I thought, I like the picture and that is all I could focus on. The fact it was 1000 pieces of 100 cartoon horses seemed to be a non-issue.
I feel like I do this a lot; in fact I have kind of a reputation in my family of not seeing the big picture. To me it doesn’t seem to have any rhyme or reason so it is hard for me to correct. I know my loved ones would disagree. They seem to see the common denominators in these situations and try to point them out to me before I take that fatal step. Sometimes it’s something benign like the puzzle and sometimes quite severe like moving to a town with less than 800 people.
Well, this puzzle has become a metaphor for mine and Emily’s life together.
We persevered until it was done. Even though it took up half the dining room table and we made everyone squish at one end to eat, we did not give in. After two days, we did not give in. We did it together until we were seeing double. Then one would take a break and the other would continue. Tristan came by and helped a bit. Allison stuck in there for a few minutes until she announced every time, “I hate puzzles!”
When it was finally done and we realized there were three pieces missing, we felt annoyed for a minute and then let it roll off our backs. We did everything we could do and it was enough.
The puzzle was just like us, a little broken, but we could see the big picture.
The Creamer and Wine Diet
By popular demand, imagined or not, I must release my diet plan to the clamoring masses.
Here is how I do it:
6:00 am
Wake up and have one cup of coffee with hazelnut creamer. I love creamer and I am willing to sacrifice food calories for it. I should get it delivered in a keg, have it on tap.
7:30 am
Coffee and creamer again at the office.
9:00 am
Yogurt, the best kind is the one where the water is sitting on top. You are so starving by this time it could be mold and it wouldn’t matter.
11:15 am
Lean cuisine or a salad for lunch.
4:00 pm
Eat only protein like chicken breast in the evening for dinner and some veg. Just eat before 5pm. If it is after 5pm well I’m sorry you are screwed and hungry. Buck up. Wait until 7:00 pm.
7:00 pm
Drink two glasses of wine, spread it over a couple of hours. Like the creamer, I love wine and am willing to give up that meatball sandwich in order to have it. Sacrifice, that is what it is all about in dieting. You may omit the wine, I can’t or won’t, but to each his own.
Don’t expect to be able to keep this up indefinitely, prepare yourself for a break down and eat a piece of bread or a bowl of cereal after 4-5 days.
Disclaimer: I am the only one that endorses this plan.
Full House
I have a full house this week of Christmas break.
And just how do you think I am handling the situation? You would be right, not well, not well at all. Tonight I took an anti anxiety pill I reserve for emergencies; second time in my life to use it. The first time I took one I actually had a panic attack. I was afraid what it would do to me. Irony at it’s best, the drug is to prevent panic attacks. Ha Ha Ha, what a crack up I am!
I wasn’t going to have a panic attack, but I was getting quite anxious knowing that my in-laws were joining my daughter, son in law and granddaughter (they were here first) at our house for a few days. On top of that I will be entertaining a cousin and his family. Oh, yeah then there are John’s friends. I tend to be a bit of an introvert so having this many people and for so long is wearing my nerves down.
They mean well, but when my sister-in-law starts telling me about people she knows, their names, their children’s names, their spouse’s names and their pets’ names, breed, age and gender. After I learn all of that there is the list of jobs each of them has, how great the jobs are and their co-workers. Half way through the evening I am so agitated from boredom, but trying to be polite and pay attention even by asking pertinent questions when I think appropriate. After two hours of this I feel like drowning myself in the kitchen sink.
Tonight I couldn’t take it, even though I had mother’s little helper swimming through my blood stream I begged off saying I was too tired and must go to bed. I sneaked the laptop into the bedroom and here I sit with headphones on writing to save my sanity for tomorrow.
I do most of this for my husband. I have to step up. Wait a minute, he was gone a suspiciously long time getting groceries just after they arrived. He didn’t have a good explanation of why it took one and half hours to spend $100 dollars. Coward.
anincidentallife.com 
You must be logged in to post a comment.